The Winter Baby
by Hermiione
Summary: Clary and Jonathan commit the ultimate act of defiance against their recently reunited parents. Will running away fix the small problem that results?


_Go your way,_

 _I'll take the long way 'round,_

 _I'll find my own way down,_

 _As I should._

Clary swayed to the music. She loved being out at concerts and tonight was no exception. She was hoping to see someone here tonight so as she let her hips drift to the music without a partner she kept an eye out for him. She'd only seen pictures of him, mostly from her father's photo albums.

The first time she'd seen him she'd known he was special. "Who's that?" She had asked her father at the time.

Her father, the great hulking man that he was with his white-blond, nearly grey hair had explained, "That's Jonathan. He's your brother. We sent him to military school when he was 12."

"12? That's kind of young."

"He was an exceptionally bad child." Her father had explained shortly.

"Where is he now?" Clary had asked.

"He's serving abroad. You never met him because your mother and I were split then." That makes more sense. When she was an infant her parents had split and she'd gone to live in New York while, apparently, her father and brother had stayed behind in London. It seemed strange now that she couldn't remember even a wisp of a memory of Jonathan. At the time she had shrugged and not pursued it further. Now that her parents were back together she was sure she'd have plenty of time to meet him.

 _And hold your gaze_

 _There's coke in the Midas touch_

 _A joke in the way that we rust,_

 _And breathe again._

She took a sip of her drink and sighed. She was a little tipsy. This was her second long island iced tea and she needed to be careful. She was so looking forward to meeting him tonight that she'd done up her makeup and properly curled her hair. Isabelle had been instrumental in this plan, even if she had no idea the mystery man she was meeting was actually her brother.

She needed to be careful because she knew what she wanted to do tonight and she wanted to remember everything. She wanted to remember the speech she had planned probably going to shit and _everything_ else that was likely to happen.

She'd been fantasizing in the shower for so long about him. The curve of his biceps, the way soft light bounded off his white hair and now they could be together...finally.

 _And you'll find loss_

 _And you'll fear what you found_

 _When weather comes_

 _Tearing down_

Just as she's making a particularly sensual sway of her hips a hand grips her hip and pulls it flush into someone's groin. She lets out a small shriek of alarm but is silenced by lips on her mouth. His lips, the first thing she will ever know about this man, are soft and warm. She pulls back so she can inspect him.

He is _tall_. She'd guess he's easily six foot three. As she leans into his chest she can feel his body is all hard planes and smooth lines. His ivory hair is cut short, and as she looks at him, staring into his eyes she wonders if it's long enough for her to run her fingers through while he tongue fucks her.

 _There'll be oats in the water_

 _There'll be birds on the ground_

 _There'll be things you never asked her_

 _Oh how they tear at you now_

"Dear Clarissa." He says seductively. His voice flows like honey, thick and sweet.

"Jonathan, nice to finally meet you." She says in a low voice.

"Let me buy you a drink?" He offers. Her second Long Island iced tea is about halfway gone.

"How about just a shot?" She offers.

"Deal."

 _Go your way,_

 _I'll take the long way 'round,_

 _I'll find my own way down,_

 _As I should._

"Can I have two shots of Jose Cuervo?" Jonathan hadn't asked her what she wanted just taken charge. She loved that dearly in a man. She hated making decisions.

He paid in cash, a crisp fifty dollar bill. There was a tattoo on his wrist that she thought looked especially flattering. In sprawling script, which actually turned out to be roses upon further inspection, was the words; "remember herondale" all in lowercase letters. She wondered who "Herondale" was and if he was one of his army buddies.

The bartender served them, not even asking for Clary's ID. He nudged the shot toward her. "To new beginnings."

"To us." She said back to him.

They clinked their glasses and downed the tequila.

 _And hold your gaze_

 _There's coke in the Midas touch_

 _A joke in the way that we rust,_

 _And breathe again._

She wanted to do this - now. The shot had pushed her over the edge of being tipsy and into pleasantly drunk territory. She wasn't wasted but she was feeling good. Maybe some people - probably Jonathan would call her a lightweight but that didn't matter right now.

They stumbled into an abandoned alleyway and Clary gasped as he pressed his lips firmly down on her. God, she'd dreamed of this since she'd first seen his picture. Moreso since she'd gotten to know him through their letters. He was perfect. She kissed him back, hard, and his fingers inched around her throat. She pulled back from their kiss for moment, "Please Jonathan, _please_." He gripped her neck harder and she whined filithly.

He felt her tits through her dress. It was April, warm enough to wear a dress without panties. God, she hoped this worked. She wanted him, needed him so badly. His arms snaked down to the apex of her thighs and rubbed at the apex of her thighs, skillfully teasing her pearl of pleasure. "Fuck me!" She cried out. There was no pretending what they were about to do. She needed her brother to fuck her - hard.

 _And you'll find loss_

 _And you'll fear what you found_

 _When weather comes_

 _Tearing down_

She fished him out of his pants and pressed him to her opening. His grip on her neck tightened still harder and she felt her air supply cut off. She was in heaven. She didn't want to be in control anymore. She just needed him to take her life in his hands and fuck the shit of out her.

He pressed to her entrance, ready for this and he pressed past her slit with ease. She tried to gasp but there was no air. He fucked into her hard. He let her throat go and bent her over the railing of the stairs. He held her hips tight, fucking into her hard. He reached down and played with her pearl and finally she could gasp out in pleasure.

"Please Jon, fuck me harder!" She whimpered.

He slammed into her and she hissed. It was on the border of her pleasure/pain sensors and damn did that feel good. She was probably going to bruise and she would cherish every single black and blue mark. His hips stuttered and he pressed down harder on her pearl, giving it a slight pinch. She knew he was close.

She pressed his other hand to her neck, encouraging him to choke her. He obliged and her air supply was cut off again. Holy fuck everything felt amazing. She teetered on the edge and then he pinched her pearl once more and she saw stars erupt behind her eyes and the coil of pleasure in her belly that had been threatening to snap for the last ten minutes snapped and she felt better than she ever had.

 _There'll be oats in the water_

 _There'll be birds on the ground_

 _There'll be things you never asked her_

 _Oh how they tear at you now_

Sated, and tired she slumped against the pole that he'd bent her over. His breathing was still fast a little ragged. She could feel his sticky come sliding down her legs and it felt heavenly.

"Now that that's out of the way, you want to grab a bite to eat?" He asked her and she laughed.

"I'd love to."


End file.
